The quest within
Continued; never willing to satiate.
Sublime my world;
Reassured my Self, honestly.
The many unspoken words
Permeated deep within;
Extinct became peripheral malady.
My soul purged
With hope, love, courage and perseverance,
Meandered into the dark:
Labyrinth gave way to light
And the quest within
Continued as the sole truth in my life.
It was a Sunday morning. The Sun was yet to light the day to brightness. The slight chill of November was refreshing. And we were feeling the wind as we set on a bike ride.
The roads were rather quiet except for a few early risers. But the parks were livelier with “morning walkers”, and “strong believers of fitness mantra”.
There were some who walked their dogs, while the others jogged with music plugged in their ears, and some others who chose quieter corners to practice meditation.
We parked our bike outside one such park that faced the sea; a visual delight. Its endless broad pavement with planted trees on the sides, were indeed welcoming.
We were instantly drawn to a few elderly people who had stopped by to relax on the benches. Their faces reflected an inner peace and their friendly smile spread warmth. Though they seemed to be relaxing, they were concentrating on the slow exercises, moving their aging hands and legs carefully.
Their exuberance was infectious. Without realising, I found myself following their steps. My hands moved along with my feet; I slowed myself to unwind the tension that had built on my neck. An occupational hazard that, I am tackling on a weekly basis.
Surprisingly, we kept walking along the path with little distraction. We did not share any conversation, neither family nor the office. The only awareness was a kind of undefined happiness.
The sea appeared calm to the wind ruffles. However, our eyes were fixed at the undefined azure stretch of sky and sea. Incidentally, both of us were thinking about the infinite in our stretch of lives.
How many hours had passed by, we did not recollect. We were back on our bike riding, and the undefined presence of Sun as our “Guardian Angel” kept us company.
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils,…..
“Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings.” The poem, ‘The Daffodils’, by the renowned Romantic poet, William Wordsworth, is a mysterious blend of Nature and philosophy.
……I gazed – and gazed – but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
Often, described as the Nature poetry, the daffodils are seen as an object of beauty that showers happiness in solitude. Indeed, for a school going kid, the poem is an excellent tool that subtly encourages visualisation.
Very recently I laid my hands on a collection, ‘Select English Poems’, compiled by A. Parthasarathy, an acclaimed exponent of Vedanta (Vedanta is an ancient Indian philosophy). The Preface to the book states that the select poems convey great human values, and “it ushers you to the goal of Self-realistion.”
And, there was ‘The Daffodils’, a path to spiritual Enlightenment!
According to the spiritual analysis of ‘The Daffodils’, “encompasses the three disciplines followed by meditation: karma (action), bhakti (devotion), and jnana (knowledge).
I stop to re-read the poem again. May be, the poet was a spiritual seeker engaged in selfless services, detached from the worldly pleasures, and who experienced Universal love, “the essence of devotion”. May be, his awareness gained him the Universal knowledge of Oneness.
May be, it was his self realisation that filled contentment.
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills
And dances with the daffodils.
I am left wondering.
Standing before the deities placed in the temple of our home, we begin our day offering prayers for our well being. The usual ritual includes lighting the lamp, incense stick, and burning the camphor. Incidentally camphor has taken a centre stage in my life, though my reverence began with it as a symbol of religion.
In fact, every temple in India makes use of camphor for arati (offering camphor lamp). Nevertheless, the cumulative effect of the camphor and the ringing bells turns therapeutic. It stirs various emotions and the mind goes into abeyance.
When I burn camphor and watch its progress, it reminds me of a stage by stage ‘purification of soul’; metaphorically speaking. Watching the ‘white, volatile, crystalline substance’ disappear, little by little, has often made me aware of the reality; and its perfume a reminder of cleansing.
Apparently, some of the practitioners of alternative and complementary treatment methods (e.g. Healing, Reiki) recommend the use of camphor. Probably, for those who deal with the ways of the subconscious and the spiritual, camphor becomes synonymous with well-being. Of course, religion and spirituality has had a deep-rooted relation.
Indeed, the medicinal property of camphor is world renowned, especially in home remedies. Be it an insect bite or cough, a pure camphor is crushed, mixed along with the relevant natural products and served as a cure. Interestingly, it has found its way into kitchen as a flavouring agent. However, we have to make sure it is not the “easily available” synthetic camphor.
As the day comes to an end, following the ritual of lighting the lamp in the evening, I reach out the lit matchstick to the camphor. In an instance the fire catches, sways and takes the melting camphor along. It burns till the last flicker, leaving no past to worry about. My mind starts reeling.
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